The Sorting
by Amanda S. Hiaasen
Summary: Little Padfoot has to be sorted just like the rest, where will that dirty old hat decide to put him?


The Sorting

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter related indicia are copyright© J.K. Rowling. THEYARENOTMYCHARACTERS. Just the story is. Who'da thunk.

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The Great Hall really was just as magnificent as he had dreamed it to be. It had four large, thick wooden tables that seemed to have a rather thick layer of gloss on them in a row vertically towards a main, much more decorative table row. That was obviously used by the Professors, as all of them were seated when they started to shuffle down a center isle towards the front of the large room. The Dias sat just that bit higher than the student's tables, and off the front of the podium like table hung what he knew to be the Hogwarts Crest; it had stitching on it that appeared to be done in solid gold; it was beautiful.  
  
The rest of the school was sitting at their corresponding tables, each having a colorful runner going down the center; the colors were of the houses that each table seated. From the left of the room (when looking straight ahead at the teachers' table) the houses went from Slytherin, to Ravenclaw, to Hufflepuff, and finally Gryffindor. Above them the sky was grim looking, but it held some hope of turning around and ending beautifully. Clouds were scattered over the navy blue sky, slight dots were barely visible through them, the bright dots being the stars of Heaven above. At least it wasn't raining, but a storm would have been memorable.  
  
It was September first, 1971, and it was Sirius Black's first day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He'd already heard so many things about Hogwarts through his older cousin, Narcissa, who started her third year that day. She'd spoke of the houses, food, the Slytherin Dormitory, how Slytherin really was the best house, and about that blonde seventh year she fancied, but Sirius didn't exactly care about that. When he did his own research (the book store had a lovely book on Hogwarts) he found out a lot more things about the houses, and as it was a book it seemed to be quite impartial to any. He knew quite well which house he personally wanted to be in; Gryffindor. His entire family had once been in Slytherin, so he wouldn't be entirely surprised if that 'dingy, hoarse lame excuses for a wizard's hat' (as said by his sister) put him there, too, but he still knew which one he fancied.  
  
While Sirius was daydreaming, short, naïve 11 year olds had occupied the entirety of the open space in the front of the Great Hall. Some of the students looked downright terrified, the expression on their faces was priceless! Albus Dumbledore stood, tapping his knife onto the glass of his crystal goblet to get the room to go silent. All eyes were on the elder man that was nearly straight ahead of Sirius; he had long graying hair and a beard to match (it went to about his lower chest), and his eyes were so blue and they seemed to twinkle be neither his semicircular optic lenses, he looked so kind and understanding. Long sentence.  
  
"Welcome to another brilliant year at Hogwarts! I trust you all had a great summer. Now, before the food appears and we fill our gullets, the sorting must commence! Professor McGonagall, will you do the honors?" Even his voice was warm! The school erupted in claps, be it for his mention of food (it had truly been a very long train ride) or about the sorting; Sirius was clapping for the food. The professor he spoke of nodded and the same rather stern looking middle-aged woman from the Entrance Hall stood when Dumbledore sat down. She moved from the high tables to a platform that was three stair steps above the first years. In the middle of the platform was a three-legged wooden stool, on that rested the Sorting Hat, and Sirius had to agree (which he never did) with his cousin about its appearance.  
  
The woman held a rolled scroll in her hands and she unrolled it and held it in front of her face. "When I call your names, please sit on the stool and I shall place the sorting hat on your head. When you are finished please take a seat at the house table the hat sorts you into. The houses are Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor. Let's begin." She held the scroll in one hand and the tip of the old hat in the other. Sirius knew he'd be one of the first.  
  
After a rather tubby boy with the last name of Abbott sat on the stool, Sirius was starting to get slightly nervous. What if he was put in Hufflepuff? That would be a disgrace!  
  
"Black, Sirius." Professor McGonagall called in a monochromatic voice. Slowly, Sirius walked up the three steps and sat on the stool. Nervously, he brushed his longer bangs from his forehead right before the dirty hat was set placed on his head. Sirius waited for the Hat to yell out his house, but before it did, he heard something that seemed to be coming from inside his head. "Another Black!" The Hat (so he assumed) chortled; moving from side to side and in turn making Sirius look as though he was shaking his head back and forth. "Another Slytherin, too, I'd say." Sirius' heart sank, as did his shoulders, and his head lowered. What a disappointment. "What's that? You don't want to be in Slytherin? It's in your blood! I even remember your Grandfather, he was a Slytherin, and a good one at that." The Hat seemed to just keep talking. "Fine then, suit yourself! I've just been sorting for over a hundred years," the indignant had said to him. "GRYFFINDOR!" The hat said, this time not inside his head, and Sirius' head flew up, nearly tossing the Hat back onto the ground. He moved from the seat and over to the Gryffindor table where he was met with many pats on the backs from his fellow Lions.  
  
The sorting continued, and Sirius watched as Severus Snape was sorted into Slytherin, Lily Evans (which he couldn't help but find pretty), Remus Lupin and James Potter were sorted into Gryffindor, both of which he had gotten to know briefly on the train, and he could tell that it was the beginning to a very brilliant, and mischievous seven years. As the names were called off, the room clapped as each student was selected by the Hat to go to one of the four houses. Finally, with the last student (some Zabini chap), Professor McGonagall took her seat back at the high table and the food, or rather feast, appeared.

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Authors Note: I was bored so I decided to write, and this is what I came up with. A special thanks to Rogue for editing this. Give me your thoughts. 


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